


There But for the Grace of God (I'm not calling you a liar)

by SirEdmund



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: F/M, Season 2 spoilers, melodrama turned up to 11, seriously though Van Ark is a dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-24 22:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2598983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirEdmund/pseuds/SirEdmund
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not every mission you can walk away from can be considered a "win".</p><p>Set just after S2M29</p>
            </blockquote>





	There But for the Grace of God (I'm not calling you a liar)

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm one of those idiots that keeps running when I come to a multi-part mission, regardless of how exhausted I might be. This is inspired by my state as both a physical and mental puddle of jelly as a result of the events of s2m27, 28, and 29. God help me if there's ever a four-parter.

By the time Runner Three meets her fifty meters from the township she is stumbling. At twenty her pace falters. By the time they clear the gates he is carrying her.

Word gets around and half of Abel is waiting for them by the time they get to the courtyard.

 _She did it,_ they murmur. _She came back again._

_Runner Five always comes back._

“Budge up, folks, make some room! You can get Five's autograph later,” Three exclaims, trying to wade through the gathered populace. He does not make much progress. “ _Later,_ people. Come on _._ ” The trembling runner is still in his arms. Her own are wrapped protectively around an aged leather satchel and her breath comes in gasping sobs.

“Make a hole, people.” The major's voice cuts through the masses like an orbital strike. She does not need to raise her voice. In her wake comes the doctor, nearly as breathless as Five. Nearly sobbing like Five. Behind her trails Sam, headset still clutched in his hands.

“Special delivery, Doc,” Runner Three beams. He hefts his burden higher. “ _Runner Express_.”

The blood drains from the doctor's face at the sight of the battered runner. “Medical tent,” she says. Her voice is hoarse and her eyes are red.

The crowd dissolves under the major's stern eye and the five of them, major, doctor, runners and Sam, cross the yard to squeeze into the small shelter. Runner Three sets Five down on the cot just inside the entrance. She doesn’t look at any of them. Her eyes fix on a point on the floor just past the tips of her shoes. The doctor tries to take the parcel from her, but the runner only clutches it tighter.

“Alright there, Runner Five. Release the case so Doctor Myers can see to it.” The Major's attempt at a soothing tone is anything but. Runner Five curls her body around the case, crushing it to her chest. She does not stop trembling.

“Five,” he says from the doorway. “Five, it's all right now, isn't it. You're home now, the mission's over.” The rest of them turn to stare at him, but the runner does not react. He takes a step forward and continues to ramble. “You did good today, Five. Great in fact. Really great. Really, really great.” He swallowed, casting about for more to say. “Pretty amazing, how you got away from that giant fast zom, and, and that cannibal. A real-life cannibal, can you believe that? I mean, what was that guy thinking? 'Ah, well, I always wondered what old Mrs. McGuinness tasted like. Guess I'll find out.'” His nervous fingers find the hole in his jumper. He winches as he recalls how damned concerned he had been about that stupid hole. “And Lem! Thought we’d seen the last of that guy, I did. That guy, well. What a guy.” The major and Three make space for him as he approaches and he kneels in front of her. “But, you're home now. You're safe. Time to let the doc her doc-thing, aye? Time to stop running.”

He places his hands over hers and gently uncurls her fingers. The pack slides from her grip and she lets him take it. She grasps her knees instead. She does not stop trembling.

\--

Her trainers have to be cut off. The socks beneath are soaked crimson, the flesh beneath them raw and swollen. He had not thought himself to be squeamish, but the sight turns his stomach. He looks away and shudders when he considers how long and how far she has had run. Runner Five says nothing.

He and the doctor exchange concerned looks over her head. The doctor confirms what they are all thinking; Runner Five will not be running again anytime soon.

The doctor gives her something strong for the pain and the last of the penicillin. Five grips his hand tightly as her wounds are tended to. Numerous scrapes and bruises cover her from head to toe. Blood from long gashes down her calves mix with a liberal amount of dirt and grime. A large abrasion the shape of a rifle butt colors the area above her left eye. Her fingers tighten around his with each pass of the antiseptic swab. Her wrists are last. The zip-ties used to bind them still remain, biting into the soft flesh. Dried blood streaks her arms from where the ties have broken skin. He shudders again and wraps an arm around her shoulders protectively, acutely that it is far too late. The damage has been done. Runner Five says nothing.

The doctor takes Five's temperature. She is running a slight fever, so she takes a blood sample as well. “Can't be too careful,” she says with feigned levity, but the worry lines on her forehead have returned. Runner Five says nothing.

\--

She is out now, in what passes for rest when one is heavily medicated. He sits beside her and the doctor lets him stay. The major has left to do whatever it was that she does all the day and Runner Three has gone to the mess hall. The doctor is in her lab, pouring over the notes that Runner Five has brought home.

It's so quiet. A real hospital would be filled with the sounds of the machinery, the steady beep of the heart rate monitor in the background. Here there is only the oppressive silence and his own breathing. A real hospital would have bandages not made from bed sheets.

He sits beside his runner and relives the events of the day again and again, until his nails bite into his skin and he feels nothing but cold determination. He is sure of one thing: Van Ark will _pay_. Van Ark will pay for what he has done.

He nods off.

–

The blow knocks the headset from the runner's head. For a dizzying moment earth and sky tumble together before everything abruptly steadies. The camera lens cracks on impact.

“Five!” he cries.

Silence. 

“Five! Can you hear me?”

Silence. 

“Pick up the headset,” he begs. “Please pick up the headset. _Pick up._ Runner _Five_.”

The sound of an engine rumbles low through his headphones. He feels the vibration in his teeth. Movement in the grass and the headset is aloft again. A familiar face fills his screen. An older man with dead eyes. They bore straight through the camera lens and Sam is sure that the man can see him there huddled in his comm shack, fists clenched around his microphone. Beside him the doctor swears.

Far way the other man smiles and it is a chilling sight.

The camera view moves again and the roar of the engine grows louder. He sees a jeep idling in the tall grass of a field.

And then he sees her. She is kneeling in the grass behind the vehicle. Her head is bent low and her clasped hands are raised high. She looks like she is praying. He stares at her, confused. The driver revs the engine. The jeep moves forward and the runner with it. He sees now the length of chain looped through the top of jeep's roll cage.

And then he understands. The jeep moves forward and pulls her with it. He feels his blood turns to ice. Beside him the doctor gasps.

The camera turns again and the man's face returns. His tone is almost bored. “As you can see, I have your runner. If you want her back, you know what I want in return. Do hurry.” The feed cuts out and Sam realizes he is on his feet. Beside him the doctor sobs.

\--

He's awake again, and for a moment he doesn't know where he is. It's dark and quiet, and his back is _killing_ him. He straightens from his hunched position. There is something clasped in both his hands. It's soft and warm and solid. He blinks blearily around him, registering the small confines of a tent. He looks down at the small hand clutched in his own. He knows that hand. He finds it attached to an arm and he knows that arm, too. It's Five's hand and Five's arm, and the rest of her is there, too. She's here.

He is dizzy with relief and he feels the knot in his stomach begins to loosen. She's here. _He_ doesn't have her. She's here and she's safe.

Just a dream.

But, no. He looks again at the hand in his lap. He sees the bandages on her wrist and knows there are more he can't see.

Not a dream.

He squeezes the hand tightly. A protesting sound comes from the cot beside him and he looks up. She's awake and she's looking at him.

"Five! You - how are you feeling? I mean, obviously not great, obviously, what with the running for hours and zombies chasing you, but, but you're here! You came back."

She moves to sit up and he helps her to an upright position. He perches on the cot beside her. For a long time she doesn't say anything. He looks at her anxiously. He begins to fidget.

Finally, she asks softly, “Paula?”

He feels his face fall. “Back... back with Van Ark. Remember? You saw...”

“Stupid.” She pulls her hand from his and turns away. “Stupid. A runner for a doctor is a stupid, stupid trade.”

For a moment he can't speak. He looks down at his lap and it's all he can do to not cry. “It was the only way,” he manages. “I – We couldn't just leave you and we needed the notes and we didn't know where you were-”

“They're Paula's notes,” she says flatly. “You think she doesn't know what's in them?”

“Five...”

“Doctors come first. You said. You said...” She's crying now. “They were clear. They were clear and they were safe and now...”

“Five, it's not your fault.”

“Isn't it?” She looks at him now and her face is so full of pain.

“No! No, of _course_ not.” He pulls her close and she lets him. “Nobody thinks that. Nobody. It's nobody's fault but Van Ark's. He's a monster. He's a monster and we'll stop him and we'll get her back and... and...” he trails off.

She lays her head on his shoulder. He can feel tears dampening his shirt and he holds her tighter. She is silent a long time. So long that he wonders if she has fallen back asleep.

“I miss Archie,” she says, so softly he almost misses it. Somewhere deep inside a piece of him finally breaks. His eyes fill and he buries his face in her hair. 

“Me, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I eventually cut this ending because it didn't fit the tone of the rest of the fic, but here it is now, for your amusement:
> 
> “Did you finish fixing your jumper?” she asks at length. 
> 
> “I -- my jumper?”
> 
> “Yeah,” she mumbles, her voice thick with fatigue. “You were darning while I ran back with the samples.”
> 
> “Oh.” He had forgotten all about it. “No. No, I just.... gotta keep my hands busy, don't I? Otherwise I'll wring 'em apart. Or break another one of Janine's headsets.”
> 
> She laughs softly at that.
> 
> “I'm rubbish at it, though. Pretty useless at all hand-craft-type things, really. Mending, knitting, sewing. Engineering.” 
> 
> “Miniature painting,” the runner supplies helpfully. 
> 
> “I'll have you know that I meant to paint that dragon purple.”
> 
> She turns her head from where it is still resting on his shoulder and raises her eyebrows at him skeptically. 
> 
> “What?" he asks, feeling only slightly defensive. "It's a fourth edition variant.”
> 
> “You did not just mention fourth in my presence.”
> 
> “Oh, don't tell me you're a three-point-five Luddite.”
> 
> “Please. Wayseeker is what three-five wishes it could be when it grows up.” She looks wistful for a moment. “I heard Mages of the Mountains was just about to release fifth edition before Day Zero. Guess we'll never get to try it now.”
> 
> “The apocalypse ruins everything.”
> 
> “Yeah.”


End file.
